5TH GRADE

     Of all the times in my life, I would have to pick the year of my fifth
grade at St. Johns as one of the best, mystifying, confusing, humiliating,
but satisfying times . (did I mention fun too?) Actually it was in that
year that my life was changed forever.

Catholic school in the mid - fifties was ruled by stern priests and even
more stern nuns, whose rules were absolute and whose enforcement was never,
ever questioned by parents but more times than not, were re-enforced at
home. After all, the key to success in life was to come from self
discipline and this platoon of tyrants were going to make certain that
these lessons were learned well. (I will now give them some credit for
their credo as actually the military was a snap by comparison. I will give
them no more!!)  So in early September of 1954, I marched myself through
the front doors of St. Johns looking forward to learning, ever in fear of
the wooden ruler, and anxious for the summer to get here!

     But there were bright spots because in fifth grade, you entered the
arena of intramural sports; history, geography , drama and chorus. I wasn't
particularly big but I was very well coordinated as I had taken dancing for
several years (tap and ballet; hated tap though, too noisy. Ballet however
was strength and grace and it had a strange appeal in its magical motions.
Also, my mother played the piano at the studio so I spent alot of time
there when mom couldn't get a sitter. To make the most of it, I started
taking lessons; but that is another story). All the boys who wanted to
reported to the football field at the end of the first day, and I drug my
buns there too.  Now the coaching theory of Coach Royce was much the same
as many of today's' coaches; bigger is better, so it wasn't long before I
was assigned a group and that group was told thanks, but no thanks, so home
I went, though I was not that disappointed. My dad wasn't even that upset
as he consoled himself by telling me that he would work with me and he knew
that I would grow to be as big as him.( my dad was a big man and had in
fact played professional football in the old All-American league with the
Canton Bulldogs and the Portsmouth Spartans.) Naturally we were bogged down
with homework so after dinner(it's called supper here) I did my study
routine and hit the hay.

     (Now then since I had been taking ballet for three full years I had
been introduced to many different things one of which was a device called a
"dancers belt" that was really a very tight Jock strap and was intended to
make the male anatomy disappear when wearing dancer's tights. As I was
pretty much undeveloped it wasn't necessary that I wear it but instead was
given girls panties to wear as they were tighter and pretty much did the
job of hiding me. Of course they were several sizes smaller than what my
boys stuff were and did the job so I pretty much wore them all the time,
though I did protest it was just enough to make my dad satisfied that I
would be following in his footsteps athletically, though he did rationalize
that it was OK because he liked the Ballet as well and it was just one of
those things men endure.  But he didn't know that I wore them all the
time.)

     	I shared a room with my sister and also a chest-of-draws and
dresser and she knew that I wore panties but she also knew that I wore them
for dancing. In fact, I wore most of her ballet tutus at different times
. She also took ballet and was the most graceful person I had or have ever
seen to this day, and we would practice our dances at night as well as do
bar exercises and step exercises. On any given night , I would wear one of
her tutus from a previous recital and would try to learn a new way to enter
into a repeated "beat "series or more graceful arm movements when doing
steps from 4th or 5th positions, and sometimes we would work up our own
routines. It was just fun doing ballet and the theatrical was a big part of
it as it is the most intense form of dance that I know of, and costuming is
a big part of the theatrics. Aside from ballet, she played the piano and I
did too, but it was at this stage of my life when I had developed such a
wonderful boy soprano voice (a soprano has a voice range of two octaves
starting at about middle c and it is not uncommon for young boys to have
this female voice range until puberty. Of course I didn't know what the
voice range was called until I got into chorus) There were times when I
would practice playing the piano and start singing and then blow out a
glass breaking High C finale. It was fun to do that because it always got
attention!

      The first two weeks went by quickly and at the beginning of the 3rd
week, tryouts were held for chorus so I tried out. The nun in charge of the
music programs (which included singing and instruments was Sr. Anne; a
tough old bird who demanded and got the best out of everyone even if it
meant breaking your knuckles several times or slapping you stupid. You
simply did not fail to learn)!  I was the last boy and she began by having
me sing a scale beginning at middle c.  She then had me continue on up
through the scale ranges and we finally arrived at high C and I let it rip!
I turned and looked at her and she had the strangest look upon her face and
after a few seconds she returned to normal, dismissed the rest of the
auditioners and told me to wait there for a while. In about ten minutes she
returned with the local pastor, Fr. Briagtonelli, and had me go through the
scales again, including my High C romp. He nodded in agreement as they
conferred and as I walked past them having been dismissed, they were
speaking in hushed tones but I did manage to hear him say "Castrati" and
she nodded in agreement. I just smiled and headed out the door and off to
ballet lessons. Several days later the "made-it" list was posted on the
school secretary' door and there my name was. It was a nice feeling to know
that I had made it but it was only the very beginning of what was to be an
interesting fifth grade and an even more so life!
     
     Practice began in earnest the following week and it was held right
after school so If it didn't finish on time I would be late for ballet
class which had its own set of consequences. I had noticed that Sr. Anne
would always have us finish at a high c scale so that myself and Mary Ann
Clancy would be the only two still able to do it and after several weeks I
grew tired of it and flattened out my finish so that it sounded awful!
Sr. Anne grabbed me by the ear, dismissed the class and dragged me into the
music room where she also kept her paddle. Rather unceremoniously, she had
me unbuckle my belt and unzip my trousers and then bent me over a chair,
with my head on the seat and my hands gripping the seat back. She then
pulled my trousers down around my knees and there I stood, head on the
chair and my butt clad in white rayon panties.  I wasn't embarrassed or
humiliated, I just felt naked and after two hard whacks, she told me to
dress and join her in her office.  When I entered her office, she asked me
if I were in pain and I said that I was , a little, but that I deserved it
and would take it like a man. She told me that it was good that I had
recognized my error and then she said "Timmy, I had no idea that you were
such a sensitive child but I should have known that you were since you take
Ballet lessons and that is something that average boys don't do. Your
parents must be very special to allow you to do it."  There was a very
calming presence to her voice and feeling comforted somewhat I asked if I
could sit and she smiled and said that it was ok. "Timmy, you have been
blessed with a very special gift and that is your voice". She then
explained what all the ranges of voices were and how the male soprano was
the most special as it was a voice that belonged to girls as they got older
and also to some very special boys of which I could be one. "I also noticed
that you had panties on, which again is not something average boys do but I
take it from your dance experience that you normally wear them; is this the
case?" "Yes, I said, is it wrong Sister?" "Oh no, not wrong, just
different; I suppose that it has always been a part of dancing in one form
or another ; which do you like best Timmy, dancing or singing?" "Sister, I
like them both, but I prefer baseball". She laughed and told me to go and
off I went to dancing but I couldn't help think that something was very odd
about our conversation. Just couldn't put my finger on it.

     Dancing that night was a nasty affair as I had a very sore butt and I
just couldn't concentrate through the entire procedure of bar and step
exercises. After class, Marjorie, my instructor and the lady my mother
worked for, cornered me and really ranked me about the poor performance.(
One of the oddities of this time period was that parents always supported
instructors in matters of discipline and never interrupted them; no matter
what!) The ride home was quiet as I recall and so was dinner that
evening. My dad worked shift work at the steel mill, and was working the
second or afternoon shift that week. After dinner mom asked me what the
problem was and I reluctantly told her about the paddling I had gotten from
Sr. Ann and about the chat that we had had. She asked several questions and
really didn't comment on any of what I had to say in response. So she
dismissed me, I headed for the bath and then the phone rang. I answered it
; it was Sr. Anne. I called mom to the phone and headed for the tub,
soothed my aching, stinging rear-end, and off to bed I went. For some
reason, I cried myself to sleep though it would be some time before I knew
why I was crying. Somewhere between the tears and sleep and after what
seemed an eternity, I heard mom hang up and as I was just about to drift
off, she entered our room and tucked both of us in; something she hadn't
done in a very long time.

     The next day was a Friday and after school I went through the normal
routine of going to chorus practice then ballet. That weekend was a dress
rehearsal for our first ballet recital and normally Anthony Alenski and I
were the two boys in the class.(Anthony and his sister Helena, who also
danced with us were Polish born and had immigrated to the U.S. several
years earlier. Their mother was a dancer in Poland's national ballet and so
the children sort of just fell into it). Marjorie announced at the
beginning of practice that neither of the two were going to be there any
more as their father had gotten a new job and they would be leaving
immediately, which meant that she was going to make some drastic changes to
get us through. Instead of a male role I would have to dance in the cadre'
and as a girl, which while it disappointed me in one regard excited me in
another. As we were to receive our costumes that day, I received Helena's
which only required a bit of alteration as all of us were pretty much the
same size. In fact large breasts are never in vogue in ballet. The bodice
of my costume was a little loose and Marjorie had made note of that and as
we went through our routine, I gave a very good performance having actually
danced that role a hundred times with my sister. After the practice, mom
and Marjorie huddled and then Marjorie approached me and asked me if I
would mind wearing a padded bra to help fill my bodice as the recital was
Sunday and there wasn't time to make the necessary alterations. She said
that if I didn't, that was ok as she understood and mom had told her it was
my decision. I said that I would and mom and her exchanged knowing glances
and after we left mom told me what a brave little fella I was to do
this. We stopped at Sears and mom took me in and when we left, I had my
first training bra; actually I had 2 of them! When we got home she took me
into the bath room and handed me one and told me to put it on so I did, and
I didn't even have a hard time snapping it. Next was the costume, a light
pink chiffon tutu with lots of sequins and dazzle stuff. I slipped it 111on
and the problem with the bodice was gone! She took me out of the bath and
into our room and had me sit in front of the mirrored dresser and put a
little make up on me, just enough to hi light an already somewhat pretty
face. A few wisps of her comb and brush and the ever present tiara and
don't you know that a cute little girl smiled back at me from the
mirror. My sister, Andrea, came in just then and smiled at me and told me
that I looked nice but said nothing more. So that night I took my bath and
afterwards I went to bed. Mom intercepted me and gave me a big hug and kiss
and suggested that I wear the training bra to bed to get used to it. "OK" I
said. She told me that if I wanted to I could wear a nightgown to bed
. There was one laying on my bed that I recognized as Andreas' and after
mom left I put it on. It felt warm and comfortable and actually I was very
pleased with myself . "G'night 'Drea" I called. "G'night Jamie" she
replied. "Jamie"? I asked. "You look a lot more like a Jamie than a James
or Timmy" she responded. " Oh". Shortly after, I was fast asleep.

     Before I knew what had happened, recital time was here and mom had me
dressed and in the car. When we arrived, Mrs. Rambo did the make up and we
all stretched and prepared and before long, we were announced. I froze; the
whole world was going to see me dressed as a girl and performing as one and
I must have had a terrible expression upon my face as Marjorie was there in
an instant, and after a few coos and words of encouragement we went on
stage, and assumed third position starting poses. The music began and as I
pushed up into the first movement my fear subsided and I danced as I have
never danced before, being careful to make my movements as graceful as I
could ever have done, and trying hard not to upstage the other girls. It
was over in 4 minutes and as we took our leave of the stage I knew I had
become a changed person but I wasn't sure why. Perhaps it was my
imagination, perhaps it was real but the applause seemed to be more loud
than for any of the other programs. Marjorie was smiling and gave me a big
hug(as she did all of the other 11) but mine seemed to last a little
longer.  We grouped for our compulsory photograph and went about changing
for the traditional after -recital meal at the local Italian restaurant. As
I was about to drop my tutu, mom entered the dressing room, gave me a big
hug and handed me a present wrapped with a large pink bow on white paper. I
smiled at her and opened it to find a very simple knee-length, wine-colored
shift-skirt, a pair of off white tights with blouse to match, and an
oversized black crew necked sweater and a pair of black "Mary-Janes" and a
simple half slip in white. She said nothing but helped me out of my costume
and obligingly I began to put on the new clothes though I must admit that I
felt a little strange. I assumed that since the whole class was going to
dinner that I was to be dressed as the rest.(What mom had given me was the
studio uniform normally worn by the girls; the boys' was basically the same
except for the skirt and both had gray blazers to compliment .) After
dressing, she touched up my make up but this time she added a little
mascara to high light my eye-lashes which were naturally long but little
boy blond, and added a little eyebrow touch- up to complete the
transformation from little boy to little girl. Even though my hair was
somewhat shorter than the girls, it was long enough to pass as a girls
short haircut. Andrea had not danced as she was older by several years and
her recital was the next week. However, she did attend my recital and as we
were getting into the car, she gave me a hug and told me that I had danced
wonderfully.

     We arrived at the restaurant a little after everyone else and Johnny,
the owner, led us through the main salon to the Naples Room where we would
all be eating . As we passed through, I happened to look into the corner
and there was Sr. Anne; she was smiling at me and nodded to our family; had
she seen me dance? No matter, she was seeing me in skirt and blouse and
suddenly my face felt very warm and prickly but I managed a smile and
proceeded to the Naples room.  None of the other parents said a thing or
even snickered as we entered but I really can't be sure of that as I had my
eyes closed, and dinner proceeded . I sort of picked at my food and finally
I was able to sit up straight and carry on a conversation with Beth Adams
and her parents. The Adams' were very gracious people and spoke to me as if
it were perfectly normal for me to wear a skirt at dinner after ballet and
this relaxed me a considerable amount. The rest of the affair went by
quickly and as we were leaving, Sr. Anne cornered my mother and Marjorie
. Mom told us to go ahead and so dad took us out to the car. 15 minutes
later mom came out and we all drove home, chatting the while about the
recital and the nice meal and generally had a very nice, family sort of
day.  Except that I was in a dilemma!

     It was still light when we arrived home; normally a simple guarantee
of play time. My home work was complete and there were no apparent
obstacles that I was aware of so I proceeded upstairs to change clothes and
head for the school-ground to catch the last few innings of a game that was
always in progress. As I began to undress I heard a knock at my door. "Come
in". In walked mom; "where are you going Jamie?" Slowly I looked up at her
and said" Mom, that's the second time that someone in this family has
called me Jamie; Why?" She came over to my bed and sat down and began to
re-tell me what a fine thing I had done, how proud she was, and then she
asked me the BIG question; "Did you enjoy dancing as a young lady ?" (truly
one of the great mysteries in life is the ability of a mother to read her
children' minds) "Uh, to be honest mom, yes and no". "I mean , well, there
is something about the clothes that feels, well special I guess and they
are less confining than a boys." "But, I can't see where it would be OK for
me to play baseball in them and the whole world knows that I am a
boy". (There, I had her, baseballs and boys go together; baseballs and
girls do not!) "I see" she said, and giving me a pat on the head, left the
room. I finished dressing and headed out the door, returning about two
hours later and in time for my bath. Baths were special events as I enjoyed
them thoroughly. Sometimes, it was just the feel of the warm water that
mesmerized me and naps were not an uncommon event. Tonight however, was a
special night as I had touched upon something that was beginning to gnaw at
me. I HAD enjoyed dancing as a girl, I Did enjoy the feel of the clothes,
but more importantly was the feeling that those were the clothes I should
always be wearing. I t was confusing but it was there and I contemplated
long enough to fall asleep. When I awoke, there was a nightgown, clean
panties and a training bra laying on the sink counter. Next to it were my
summer PJ's and a pair of boys briefs. I dried myself off and without a
moments thought, I put on the bra, panties and nightgown and shuffled off
to bed.

     It was Monday morning now and I had a late start at school. Andrea was
in Junior High and had regular hours. Dad had already gone to work (days
this week) and mom was preparing to leave for work but still had an hour to
kill. I stumbled down to the kitchen and ate dry cereal and juice.  Mom
called for me and I went upstairs and knocked on her bedroom door. "Come in
dear". She was putting on her make up though she actually used very little.
"Have a seat ".  "I thought you might be interested in knowing how we girls
make ourselves so lovely" she said.  So I silently watched as she applied a
foundation and a little blush (I think she referred to it as Rouge),
brushed on a little mascara and applied her lipstick. "Here, you try it" so
I traded places with here and she helped me along and guided my hand
showing me proper strokes and amounts. The mascara was a bit unwieldy but I
persevered and soon enough had more on my lashes than on my face., though
honestly both my eyes looked black enough.. We had a good laugh and mom
gave me a big hug, then sent me off to wash my face and get ready for
school.

  	 This was the first day I wore my training bra and panties to
school and it felt as if I had done it all my life. Though my straps were
visible, no one commented on them (at least to my face). At lunch, I did an
unthinkable thing (for a fifth grade boy) as I sat with Tina Taylor and
Melinda Teasdale. They were both in 111my ballet class and Melinda was also
in chorus and we discussed the recital at some length and the fine meal
afterwards and generally passed the lunch period like we had been great
pals for life! Soon enough the first bell rang and we slowly walked out
side to get into line to return to the classrooms; 2 by 2, boys with boys ,
girls with girls, under the watchful eye of what ever nun having recess
duty that day. School concluded without event then off to chorus and then
ballet, and so this routine was repeated daily right up to
Thanksgiving. All the while, I continued my routine of dressing in feminine
underwear and had gotten fairly adroit at applying mascara. At chorus,
Sr. Anne continued to work me harder than the others often keeping me to
the last minute before releasing me for ballet class. I was growing tired
of it but I did love the attention she lavished on me , and I became aware
of her approval of my dress mode.  With the advent of the cooler weather,
we began to wear our uniform sweaters so the question of "Bra Straps" was
never asked.  Lunch was now spent as much with Tina and Linnie as it was
with the boys and though I did experience a bit of teasing, it was nothing
serious and certainly nothing that I couldn't handle. At home my dress
began to be more and more feminine as much from preference as from maternal
suggestion. ( I say maternal suggestion but there really wasn't so much a
suggestive pattern as there was approval or lack of disapproval from my
mother).  Both Andrea and mom advised and assisted on questions that I had
regarding clothes and makeup, and though it wasn't a pre-occupation on my
part it had become a part of my life that I couldn't explain but couldn't
do with out. I had elected to grow my hair longer but more in a unisex
style than exclusively feminine.
    
      My hair was a very white blond and was now beginning to change
slightly into a more golden color with streaks of brown; thick and with
natural curl, it was the envy of many a mother and daughter!  I had no idea
how much trouble hair could be but patiently, I grew accustomed to the
fussing necessary to maintain a presentable coiffure', being careful not to
present too feminine an appearance. However, I did continue to wear bras
and panties to school and sometimes even after school play found me thus
attired.  I really didn't know what was happening to me but I knew it
seemed very natural and very comfortable. Probably the most difficult
portion lay in the way I related to my playmates, boy and girl. The girls
didn't seem to notice and the boys didn't seem to care much at first but as
my change became more noticeable, they seemed to drift away. I suppose I
contributed to the drift as I associated with them less and really began to
form more female alliances than male.  At last there came a time when I was
confronted with my duality of persona.

      	Early spring was warm and promising and as was the tradition in my
neighborhood, long walks home became the norm.  It was on a Friday and as I
said good bye to Sharon and Mary Margaret and made the turn 'round the
corner and through the alley way towards the back yard of my house, I was
grabbed from behind by one of two brothers who were several years older
than me and pulled into their garage. Mike and Tom Harney were bigger and
very rough and were the neighbor-hood bullies.  I have problems recalling
the obscenities of the experience but I never took that way home again! And
the fifth grade came to an end. was the first day I wore my training bra
and panties to school.